第一章 家庭教师卡尔•伊万内奇

CHAPTER I THE TUTOR, KARL IVANITCH

On the 12th of August, 18— (just three days after my tenth birthday, when I had been given such wonderful presents), I was awakened at seven o'clock in the morning by Karl Ivanitch slapping the wall close to my head with a fly—flap made of sugar paper and a stick. He did this so roughly that he hit the image of my patron saint suspended to the oaken back of my bed, and the dead fly fell down on my curls. I peeped out from under the coverlet, steadied the still shaking image with my hand, flicked the dead fly on to the floor, and gazed at Karl Ivanitch with sleepy, wrathful eyes. He, in a parti—coloured wadded dressing—gown fastened about the waist with a wide belt of the same material, a red knitted cap adorned with a tassel, and soft slippers of goat skin, went on walking round the walls and taking aim at, and slapping, flies.

一八XX年八月十二日——（就是在我得到了精美礼物的十岁生日后的第三天），早上七点，我被卡尔•伊万内奇吵醒了，他拿着用棍子和糖纸做成的苍蝇拍在我脑袋边的墙上拍打。他动作很粗暴，还打到了我挂在橡木床架上的守护神像，死苍蝇都落到了我的卷发上。我从被子里往外窥视，用手扶稳了摇晃着的神像，把死苍蝇弹到地板上，然后用困倦的眼睛怒气冲冲地盯着卡尔•伊万内奇。他，身穿花布棉袍，腰上系着根同样材料的宽腰带，头上戴着一顶带帽缨的红色针织帽，脚上穿着柔软的羊皮拖鞋，还在绕着墙边走来走去，瞄准苍蝇，然后拍下去。

"Suppose, " I thought to myself, "that I am only a small boy, yet why should he disturb me? Why does he not go killing flies around Woloda's bed? No; Woloda is older than I, and I am the youngest of the family, so he torments me. That is what he thinks of all day long—how to tease me. He knows very well that he has woken me up and frightened me, but he pretends not to notice it. Disgusting brute! And his dressing—gown and cap and tassel too—they are all of them disgusting.

就算，我暗暗想，我只是个小孩，但他为什么偏偏来打扰我呢？他怎么不去沃洛达的床边打苍蝇？不会的，沃洛达比我大，我是家中最小的，所以他才来折磨我。这就是他整天想的东西——怎么欺负我。他很清楚自己把我吵醒了，吓到了我，但还是假装不知道。讨厌的混蛋！他的长袍、帽子、帽缨统统都很讨厌！

While I was thus inwardly venting my wrath upon Karl Ivanitch, he had passed to his own bedstead, looked at his watch (which hung suspended in a little shoe sewn with bugles), and deposited the fly—flap on a nail, then, evidently in the most cheerful mood possible, he turned round to us.

我正暗自发泄着对卡尔•伊万内奇的怒气，他已经走到了自己床边，看了下他挂在镶了小玻璃珠的座子里的表。他把苍蝇拍挂回一颗钉子上，然后转向我们，很显然心情不错，大概是前所未有地好。

"Get up, children! It is quite time, and your mother is already in the drawing—room, " he exclaimed in his strong German accent. Then he crossed over to me, sat down at my feet, and took his snuff—box out of his pocket. I pretended to be asleep. Karl Ivanitch sneezed, wiped his nose, flicked his fingers, and began amusing himself by teasing me and tickling my toes as he said with a smile, "Well, well, little lazy one! "

起床了，孩子们！是时候了，你们的母亲已经在客厅里了。他用很重的德国口音喊道。然后他向我走来，在我的脚边坐下，从口袋里掏出他的鼻烟壶。我假装睡着的样子。卡尔•伊万内奇打了个喷嚏，擦了擦鼻子，弹了弹手指，然后就开始捉弄我、挠我的脚趾取乐，一边挠还一边笑着说：起来啦，起来啦，小懒虫！

For all my dread of being tickled, I determined not to get out of bed or to answer him, but hid my head deeper in the pillow, kicked out with all my strength, and strained every nerve to keep from laughing.

尽管我很怕痒，我还是决定不起床也不理他。只是把脑袋深深地埋进枕头里，拼命乱踢，并且绷紧了神经不笑出来。

"How kind he is, and how fond of us! " I thought to myself. "Yet to think that I could be hating him so just now! "

他真好，而且真喜欢我们！我想，但我刚刚还那么讨厌他！

I felt angry, both with myself and with Karl Ivanitch, I wanted to laugh and to cry at the same time, for my nerves were all on edge.

我生气，既生自己的气，也生卡尔•伊万内奇的气；我又想哭又想笑，神经已经绷到极限。

"Leave me alone, Karl! " I exclaimed at length, with tears in my eyes, as I raised my head from beneath the bed—clothes.

别管我了，卡尔！我终于忍不住叫出来，从床单下探出头，眼泪汪汪的。

Karl Ivanitch was taken aback. He left off tickling my feet, and asked me kindly what the matter was. Had I had a disagreeable dream? His good German face and the sympathy with which he sought to know the cause of my tears made them flow the faster. I felt conscience—stricken, and could not understand how, only a minute ago, I had been hating Karl, and thinking his dressing—gown and cap and tassel disgusting. On the contrary, they looked eminently lovable now. Even the tassel seemed another token of his goodness. I replied that I was crying because I had had a bad dream, and had seen Mamma dead and being buried. Of course it was a mere invention, since I did not remember having dreamt anything at all that night, but the truth was that Karl's sympathy as he tried to comfort and reassure me had gradually made me believe that I had dreamt such a horrible dream, and so weep the more—though from a different cause to the one he imagined.

卡尔•伊万内吃了一惊。他也不挠我脚底了；他亲切地问我怎么了。是不是我做噩梦了？他善良的德国面容和他脸上试图得知我为何流泪的关切神情，反而使我的眼泪流得更快了。我感到良心不安，无法理解为什么一分钟前我会讨厌卡尔，并连同讨厌他的长袍、帽子和帽缨。现在它们看起来却可爱极了。帽缨甚至成了他善良的证明。我回答说我哭是因为我做了个噩梦，我梦到母亲死了，正在下葬。当然这只是我编出来的，我根本不记得那天晚上都梦到了些什么。但事实是，卡尔试图抚慰我、让我安心时的神情渐渐让我开始相信我是真的做了这样一个噩梦。于是我的眼泪流得更凶了——但这另有原因，跟他想象的不同。

When Karl Ivanitch had left me, I sat up in bed and proceeded to draw my stockings over my little feet. The tears had quite dried now, yet the mournful thought of the invented dream was still haunting me a little. Presently Uncle (This term is often applied by children to old servants in Russia) Nicola came in—a neat little man who was always grave, methodical, and respectful, as well as a great friend of Karl's. He brought with him our clothes and boots—at least, boots for Woloda, and for myself the old detestable, be—ribanded shoes. In his presence I felt ashamed to cry, and, moreover, the morning sun was shining so gaily through the window, and Woloda, standing at the washstand as he mimicked Maria Ivanovna (my sister's governess), was laughing so loud and so long, that even the serious Nicola—a towel over his shoulder, the soap in one hand, and the basin in the other—could not help smiling as he said, "Will you please let me wash you, Vladimir Petrovitch? " I had cheered up completely.

卡尔•伊万内奇离开我后，我从床上坐起来，开始往我的小脚上套袜子。我的眼泪已经干得差不多了，但是因为那个编出来的梦所产生的悲伤还未散去。这时，照顾孩子们的尼科拉叔叔（在俄罗斯这个称呼是孩子们用来称呼老仆的）进来了——他是一个整洁、矮小的男人，总是严肃、谦恭而有条理，也是卡尔的好朋友。他带来了我们的衣服和靴子——至少，有给沃洛达的靴子和给我的那双破旧的、让人讨厌的、打着花结的鞋子。在他面前我不好意思哭了，而且，早晨的阳光已经欢快地透过了窗子，沃洛达正站在洗漱架前模仿着玛利亚•伊万诺芙娜（姐姐的家庭教师），笑得又大声又持久，连严肃的尼科拉——肩上挂着毛巾，一手拿着肥皂，一手拿着盆——也忍不住笑起来说道：能让我给你洗了吗，费拉基米尔•彼得洛维奇？这下我彻底开心起来。

"Are you nearly ready? " came Karl's voice from the schoolroom. The tone of that voice sounded stern now, and had nothing in it of the kindness which had just touched me so much. In fact, in the schoolroom Karl was altogether a different man from what he was at other times. There he was the tutor. I washed and dressed myself hurriedly, and, a brush still in my hand as I smoothed my wet hair, answered to his call. Karl, with spectacles on nose and a book in his hand, was sitting, as usual, between the door and one of the windows. To the left of the door were two shelves—one of them the children's (that is to say, ours), and the other one Karl's own. Upon ours were heaped all sorts of books—lesson books and play books—some standing up and some lying down. The only two standing decorously against the wall were two large volumes of a Histoire des Voyages, in red binding. On that shelf could be seen books thick and thin and books large and small, as well as covers without books and books without covers, since everything got crammed up together anyhow when play time arrived and we were told to put the "library" (as Karl called these shelves) in order. The collection of books on his own shelf was, if not so numerous as ours, at least more varied. Three of them in particular I remember, namely, a German pamphlet (minus a cover) on Manuring Cabbages in Kitchen—Gardens, a History of the Seven Years' War (bound in parchment and burnt at one corner), and a Course of Hydrostatics. Though Karl passed so much of his time in reading that he had injured his sight by doing so, he never read anything beyond these books and The Northern Bee.

你们准备好了吗？卡尔的声音从教室传来。那声音的语气现在听起来十分严厉，完全没了他刚刚让我深深感动的亲切。事实上，一到教室里卡尔就完全变成了另外一个人，和其他的时候不一样。在那里他是家庭教师。我匆匆洗漱好，穿好衣服，手里还拿着刷子，一边梳理我湿湿的头发，一边回应他。卡尔戴着眼镜，手里拿着一本书，像往常一样，坐在门和一扇窗户之间。门的左边有两个小书架——一个是孩子们的（也就是我们的），另一个是卡尔自己的。我们的架子上堆了各种各样的书——有课本也有课外书——有的立着，有的平放着。只有两大本装订成红色的游记规规矩矩地靠墙放着。书架上还有很多书，厚的，薄的，大的，小的，有皮无书的，有书没皮的，因为每当课间休息卡尔让我们整理图书馆（卡尔这样称呼那些书架）时，我们就会把东西都胡乱塞到那里。而卡尔自己的书架上的书，虽然没有我们书架上这么多，种类却是更丰富。我还记得其中三本：一本没了封皮的德文小册子，讲的是在菜园里给白菜地施肥；一本是七年战争史（用羊皮纸装订着，烧掉了一角）；还有一本流体静力学教程。虽然卡尔花了大量的时间在阅读上，并因此损伤了视力，但他从不看除了这些书和《北方蜜蜂》之外的书。

Another article on Karl's shelf I remember well. This was a round piece of cardboard fastened by a screw to a wooden stand, with a sort of comic picture of a lady and a hairdresser glued to the cardboard. Karl was very clever at fixing pieces of cardboard together, and had devised this contrivance for shielding his weak eyes from any very strong light.

卡尔的书架上还有一件物品让我印象深刻。那是一个卡片做的圆盘，用一个螺丝固定在木架子上。圆盘上贴着一张图画，画着一位女士和一个理发师。对于做这个圆盘卡尔很在行，他发明这个就是为了保护他脆弱的眼睛不再受到强光的伤害。

I can see him before me now—the tall figure in its wadded dressing—gown and red cap (a few grey hairs visible beneath the latter) sitting beside the table; the screen with the hairdresser shading his face; one hand holding a book, and the other one resting on the arm of the chair. Before him lie his watch, with a huntsman painted on the dial, a check cotton handkerchief, a round black snuff—box, and a green spectacle—case, The neatness and orderliness of all these articles show clearly that Karl Ivanitch has a clear conscience and a quiet mind.

直到现在，我的眼前还能浮现出他的样子来——那个高高的身影穿着棉布长袍，戴着小红帽，帽子下还露出些许白发。他就坐在桌子边，圆盘上的理发师的阴影投射到他脸上。他一手捧着一本书，另一只手放在椅子的扶手上。他的面前放着表，表盘上画着一个猎人，还有一块方格棉手帕，一个圆形的黑鼻烟壶，一个绿色的眼镜盒。这些物品摆放得整洁而有序，清楚地反映出卡尔•伊万内奇有着纯净的心灵和安静的灵魂。

Sometimes, when tired of running about the salon downstairs, I would steal on tiptoe to the schoolroom and find Karl sitting alone in his armchair as, with a grave and quiet expression on his face, he perused one of his favourite books. Yet sometimes, also, there were moments when he was not reading, and when the spectacles had slipped down his large aquiline nose, and the blue, half—closed eyes and faintly smiling lips seemed to be gazing before them with a curious expression. All would be quiet in the room—not a sound being audible save his regular breathing and the ticking of the watch with the hunter painted on the dial. He would not see me, and I would stand at the door and think: "Poor, poor old man! There are many of us, and we can play together and be happy, but he sits there all alone, and has nobody to be fond of him. Surely he speaks truth when he says that he is an orphan. And the story of his life, too—how terrible it is! I remember him telling it to Nicola, How dreadful to be in his position! Then I would feel so sorry for him that I would go to him, and take his hand, and say, " Dear Karl Ivanitch! "and he would be visibly delighted whenever I spoke to him like this, and would look much brighter.

有时候，当我在楼下大厅跑够了的时候，我就会踮着脚尖偷偷溜进教室，发现卡尔独自坐在他的扶手椅上，神情庄重而安详地研读着一本他最喜欢的书。也有些时候，他不在看书，眼镜低低地滑到他的鹰钩鼻上，他的蓝眼睛微合，唇边带着淡淡的微笑，带着一种奇特的表情，似乎正在凝视着什么。房间里很安静——没有任何声音，除了他均匀的呼吸声和那块盘上画着猎人的表的滴答声。他看不到我，而我会站在门边想着：可怜啊，可怜的老人！我们有很多人，可以一起开心地玩耍，而他只能这样孤独地坐着，没人喜欢他。他说自己是孤儿，那一定是真的。他的一生实在是太悲惨了！我记得他跟尼科拉讲过他的身世，他的处境实在是太可怕了！然后，我会为他感到难过，于是我便走过去，拉起他的手说道：亲爱的卡尔•伊万内奇！而当我这样说的时候，他明显愉悦起来，看起来有精神多了。

On the second wall of the schoolroom hung some maps—mostly torn, but glued together again by Karl's hand. On the third wall (in the middle of which stood the door) hung, on one side of the door, a couple of rulers (one of them ours—much bescratched, and the other one his—quite a new one), with, on the further side of the door, a blackboard on which our more serious faults were marked by circles and our lesser faults by crosses. To the left of the blackboard was the corner in which we had to kneel when naughty. How well I remember that corner—the shutter on the stove, the ventilator above it, and the noise which it made when turned! Sometimes I would be made to stay in that corner till my back and knees were aching all over, and I would think to myself. "Has Karl Ivanitch forgotten me? He goes on sitting quietly in his armchair and reading his Hydrostatics, while I—! Then, to remind him of my presence, I would begin gently turning the ventilator round. Or scratching some plaster off the wall; but if by chance an extra large piece fell upon the floor, the fright of it was worse than any punishment. I would glance round at Karl, but he would still be sitting there quietly, book in hand, and pretending that he had noticed nothing.

在教室的第二面墙上挂着一些地图——大多数都破损了，但卡尔的巧手还是将它们粘好了。第三面墙上（其中间是门），在门的一面挂着几把尺（一把是我们的——，上面都是划痕，另一把是他的——相当新）；门的另一边挂着一块黑板，上面记录着我们所犯的错误，严重的用圆圈，轻一点的用十字。黑板左边，是我们淘气时罚跪的角落。我清楚地记得那个角落——我记得那个炉门、炉门上的通风扇、以及当它们旋转时发出的噪声！有时，我得在那个角落里跪到后背和双膝都酸痛，于是我就会想：卡尔•伊万内奇忘了我吗？他舒舒服服地坐在扶手椅上看流体静力学，可是我——接着，为了让他想起我，我便会轻轻地拨弄通风扇。或者刮刮墙上的石灰；但是如果一块大石灰恰好掉到地上，会比任何惩罚都叫人害怕。我会回头望一望卡尔，但他还是安静地坐着，捧着书，好像他什么都没觉察到。

In the middle of the room stood a table, covered with a torn black oilcloth so much cut about with penknives that the edge of the table showed through. Round the table stood unpainted chairs which, through use, had attained a high degree of polish. The fourth and last wall contained three windows, from the first of which the view was as follows. Immediately beneath it there ran a high road on which every irregularity, every pebble, every rut was known and dear to me. Beside the road stretched a row of limetrees, through which glimpses could be caught of a wattled fence, with a meadow with farm buildings on one side of it and a wood on the other—the whole bounded by the keeper's hut at the further end of the meadow. The next window to the right overlooked the part of the terrace where the "grownups" of the family used to sit before luncheon. Sometimes, when Karl was correcting our exercises, I would look out of that window and see Mamma's dark hair and the backs of some persons with her, and hear the murmur of their talking and laughter. Then I would feel vexed that I could not be there too, and think to myself, "When am I going to be grown up, and to have no more lessons, but sit with the people whom I love instead of with these horrid dialogues in my hand? " Then my anger would change to sadness, and I would fall into such a reverie that I never heard Karl when he scolded me for my mistakes.

教室的中间有张桌子，用一块黑色的破油布罩着，油布被铅笔刀划了很多道道，已经能透过它看到桌子的边沿。桌子旁放着没有漆过的椅子，因为长期使用，已经被磨得很光亮了。第四面也是最后一面墙上有三扇窗户，从第一扇看出去景色是这样的。窗子正下方是一条路，路上的每一处坑洼、每一块卵石、每一道车辙，对我来说都十分熟悉和亲切。路边是一排酸橙树，透过这些树能看到一个树枝编成的篱笆和一片牧场；牧场的一边是一些农场建筑，另一边是树林——牧场深处，有守林人的小木屋，那是这一切的界限。右边的第二扇窗可以俯瞰到一部分平台，家里的大人们常常在那里吃午饭。有时候，当卡尔在批改我们的测试时，我便会向那扇窗外看，可以看到母亲的黑发和她旁边一些人的背部，还能听到他们低低的谈笑声。这时我便会为自己不能也在那里感到生气，我会想：什么时候我才能长大呢？那样我就不用上课，就可以跟我喜欢的人们坐在一起，而不是背诵这些讨厌的对话了。然后我的怒气便会转化为悲伤，我陷入那样的幻想中，连卡尔责备我犯错误的话也听不到了。

At last, on the morning of which I am speaking, Karl Ivanitch took off his dressing—gown, put on his blue frockcoat with its creased and crumpled shoulders, adjusted his tie before the looking—glass, and took us down to greet Mamma.

总之，在我所说的这样一个早晨，卡尔脱下他的长袍，穿上那件肩头都是褶皱的蓝色上衣，对着镜子整一整领带，就领着我们下楼去向母亲问安了。

CHAPTER II MAMMA